Snapshots
by biotictrash
Summary: The entire galaxy knows Commander Shepard. They know her as a savior, a celebrity, a soldier, a hero. But so few know the commander as a woman, a person... a human. A series of vignettes and images of Commander Shepard's life told through pictures on her omni-tool.
1. Preface

**Preface:**

Miranda heard the doors open, but for a moment, doesn't look up. There was too much in front of her to take in anything else at the moment.

"Ms. Lawson," her boss said. She glanced up, and nodded.

"It's a lot of work," she replied.

Miranda wasn't used to seeing her boss outside of his office, or not through holographic interface. He rarely left to show his face. She knew he left, but it was never for mundane business, mostly for pleasure. Anyone who he needed came to him, as if they needed him. Not the opposite. Never the opposite.

The Illusive Man pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and pursed his lips together. He put the cigarette out in the ashtray that another Cerberus operative carried beside him. He stepped closer to the table where their project laid, helpless and waiting for action. His eyes skimmed over the table, evaluating. She watched as the cybernetic glow of his eyes analyzed the situation, but she didn't know why. She'd been with Cerberus long enough to know that there wasn't an option to fail, especially not with this. And the reason she was there, was because he believed if anyone could pull this off, it was her.

She began running over in her head all the things that they would need to do, all the steps that it would take to carry out the operation. There'd need to be months of regrowing tissue, repairing bone and muscle, cybernetic enhancements to jump start a completely dead body. It would not be a quick turn around. And it wasn't even one that _guaranteed_ a result, but it was one that demanded a result.

"Can you do it?"

It wasn't a question, not the way it would look on paper, or as any normal person would take it. With him, there weren't questions of that nature. There was only demands. When he asked a question such as that, he wasn't asking the possibility. He was asking what she needed.

"It will take billions of credits, likely. And I don't know how quickly you need it done-."

"I just need it done."

Miranda swallowed. She shut her eyes, drawing them away for just a moment from the project.

 _Project_ , she thought. _It's not a project. It's a person._

When she opened her eyes again, she imagined herself seeing a person. But she wasn't. What was in front of her was the furthest thing from such. It was parts of a person, what was left. They had a head and torso, mostly intact. A beaten up N7 helmet had preserved the brain to a degree that Miranda could work with. She could even see a face through the visor on the helmet. Pale skin, hollowed eyes, but the face was still there. She'd seen it a thousand times, broadcasted over every news station in the months of the pursuit of Saren. She'd watched her make speeches, full of snark and shade at the Council, and an unabashed pride that she'd never seen before. She'd seen pride plenty of times, her father mostly, and other people who planned to do the worst with it.

But Commander Shepard was different. She was going to save them

But first, Miranda was going to save her.

She was going to make something from the meat and tubes, and put this woman back together. She would regrow the parts of Shepard's body that were completely gone, like her right hand, her left leg. She would stitch up the wounds in her side, slowly bring her brain back online. She would put a beating heart back in her chest.

The Illusive Man breathed in and nodded. "Shepard."

"Yes."

"See to it," he began, lighting a new cigarette, "that we don't lose her."

Miranda nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Where do we begin?" he asked.

Miranda paused a moment, looking down at Shepard's intact arm. She brought her fingers to her charred skin, and Shepard's omni-tool fizzled to life. Miranda smiled.

"I learn everything about her."


	2. Chapter 1

_April 11th, 2154 - Hannah Shepard - a beautiful young woman with short, dark brown hair and plenty of freckles on the bridge of her nose - looks down at her newborn daughter. The baby sits in her arms and she beams down at the child. The baby seemingly smiles back at her, eyes closed, bright red hair a mess on top of her head. It's pure bliss._

The new baby was so impossibly small, that Hannah had worried at least once or twice that she would break her. But at the same time, she fit so perfectly in her arms that the thought just seemed completely preposterous. Something that feels so meant to be certainly can't be taken away. It's one instance she was completely certain of.

She glanced up at her husband as he snapped picture after picture, unable to get enough of the two of them. She rolled her eyes and invited him closer to the side of the bed. It had been a long day for the both of them, no doubt, but the exhaustion felt well worth it. All for a happy, healthy little baby to hold and love and protect no matter what.

He stepped closer to the side of her bed and brushed a hand along the side of her face. Hannah smiled at him, and his eyes were already filled with tears.

"The baby isn't even crying, but you are?" she teased.

He laughed in response and nodded. 'It's been a long day, love."

Her eyes widened. "Uh huh, sure has. And you weren't even the one who had to do any work."

"Moral support is hard work too."

"If I weren't so tired, I'd smack you."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, softly and with more love than she'd ever felt in her life. She knew the blissfulness of having a newborn would rub off incredibly quickly, and that soon, she'd be complaining about waking up in the middle of the night to feed and change the baby, and to calm her down when she broke into mad hysterics at random hours of the night.

But now, the baby was so calm, so happy. Occasionally, she'd coo or hum something sweet and soft. There'd be an occasional yawn, revealing a small, gummy little mouth that was too precious for words, but hardly any crying for hours now. She'd opened her eyes a couple of times, revealing beautiful slate grey eyes that were just so perfectly small and pretty. It was possibly too soon to tell where all her features came from, but she knew she loved them all.

The tiny nose, the ridiculously messy red hair, she wonderfully chubby cheeks that she was already worrying about vanishing.

"She's so beautiful," he whispered, a thumb brushing his daughter's soft cheek.

"I know."

"All that red hair. She's like a tiny little baby fox."

Hannah laughed and rolled her eyes again. "You're right. You must have strained yourself with all that moral support because now you just sound weird."

"We need a name for her, you know," he added.

They'd run over so many names in the past nine months that they surely should have had something to call the little one. They'd waited to find out the baby's sex until she was born, so automatically, half their names flew out the window. Yet, none of them fit.

They'd gone through family names, through names of people they knew (and hoped none of those people would get angry they stole their baby name), and then ones completely out of left field. They wanted her to have a cool name, but not too weird. Something kids at school wouldn't make fun of her for, or have teachers and everyone in the galaxy butcher from attendance rosters. But Hannah had also liked more classic names, but he'd argued that most of them sounded like weird old lady names. She always feigned sadness and told him it was her grandmother's name.

He was beginning to suspect that she did not - in fact - have that many grandmothers.

"I know," she sighed. "I just… I don't know. She doesn't look like the kind of child that… it sounds dumb… She just seems special."

"Of course she is. She's ours."

Hannah shook her head. "No, not like that. Like really special."

Her husband smiled at her and nodded. "I think so too."

Hannah glanced back down at their daughter and kissed her forehead. She wiggled in her arms, in her little plush blanket and cooed happily before shutting her eyes and falling back asleep.

"What about Jane?"

He shrugged. "Jane?"

"Yeah, it's easy. It's strong and sweet. I kind of like it."

He looked down at their daughter again and thought about it. "I like it too."

Hannah sighed and smiled. "Jane. Jane Shepard. I think it fits."


End file.
